Decorum
by Ce Matin-La
Summary: Your boyfriend is in love with your best friend. "How effing cliché." What's worse is that you had to find out from Little Jenny Humphrey. Blair-centric; one-shot; season one.


**A/N:** I've had this on my hard-drive for a while, I wrote it, because it annoys me how story-lines are sometimes left under-developed on Gossip Girl. It was meant to be more of an exploration of Blair's feelings, I guess, when Jenny told her about Nate's feelings and her resentment towards Serena or whatnot and the rest in-between. But yeah... Reviews are good, they tell me what I'm doing wrong (and right). This is the most recent thing I've written (even though it's months old).

Blair-centric; Nate, Serena and Chuck also featured; 667 words; t/pg-13; italics = Blair's thoughts.

**Decorum **

---

_For once, stop being so fucking false. Acting like you're a tragic heroine. You're a teenager. Not Madame Fucking Bovary._

"I'm no Holly Golightly, either." A hollow empty voice. It wasn't Blair Cornelia Waldorf. Devoid of that trademark bitchiness and slight insecurity.

She was vulnerable.

Something Blair Waldorf refused to be. (Even though she was, more often than not).

She looked at her reflection in the mirror:

Pale. Puffy-eyed.

She pinched her cheeks, attempting to recreate the soft pink that graced them like a gentle kiss when she was a child.

_Your boyfriend is in love with your best friend._

"How fucking cliché."

_What's worse is that you had to find out from Little Jenny Humphrey. _

_The little bitch got some perverse pleasure out of it._

She sighed heavily. Made a strange sound at the back of her throat, as if she wanted to yell, but didn't for sake of decorum.

Back to the mirror; scrutinizing her reflection:

Eyes red and shining. Mouth a dark bow. Hair needed brushing. Brows slightly wild.

She attempted to smooth them out with small, clammy hands.

They wouldn't.

---

She knew what to do. It was the role that most sophisticated women in her world had to play.

She wouldn't acknowledge it.

They would both forget.

What she didn't acknowledge was that she's already tried that (and failed).

---

A new approach:

"Do you love her?"

"What?"

"Do you love her?"

...Hesitation

A small, sharp light, a shrill note; cut through their conversation like a pair of scissors through fresh construction paper: quick and clean.

**Calling:**

Chuck

"It's um... It's my, uh, mom... I should take this."

---

They were having a good day. Arms linked and laughing. A few bags with Saks or Bendell stamped across them resting in the crooks of their arms.

Back in her room, resting on her spongy bed, her good mood vanished.

Sitting up and facing her - her enemy, her best friend - the competition.

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what, B?"

A pressing look. It said: _"You know what."_

Smile faded, curves down into an unseemly frown.

Blair studied her. If she shrugged and went: "_Oh! Um... I don't know. Honestly, I don't."_ She'd...

Well, she didn't know. Maybe she'd lose her fucking mind.

"I thought we were starting over, B. You know, forgetting all of that."

She took her hand and smiled, the classic and confident Serena van der Woodsen smile. Hairs on Blair's arm prickled irritably, she fought the urge to recoil.

Staring at Serena, mouth tight, eyes slightly narrowed, she bit the inside of her lip. Hard. She didn't wince when she felt her incisors cutting through the soft flesh.

The metallic taste soothed her.

---

She pushed the button to open the car window harder than necessary.

The quick breeze combed through her hair and ruffled the edges of the dress she didn't want to wear in the first place.

It was exhilarating... almost.

It was over. No more Nate and Blair; Blair and Nate. All of that perfect couple bullshit that she actually tried to live up to. Didn't people learn that couples perceived as 'perfect' were always far from it?

She was free. They both were. As soon as it happened it felt as if the air had more oxygen. Nate probably felt the same.

A part of her was sad, though.

(She ignored it).

---

"Who is that girl?"

"I have no idea."

She didn't know either, but it felt fucking good.

---

Surprisingly, he was a gentleman.

His tongue felt good in her mouth. He tasted of alcohol and something else that she couldn't pinpoint.

_Probably another girl._

It gave her a thrill.

For a moment it was awkward:

Her bottom lip caught between his. He felt the ridge she had created with her teeth. Pulled back and looked at her questionably.

"It's nothing."

His hand gropes at her underwear, pulling it to her knees.

She slides it down the rest of the way.


End file.
